


The Art of Love

by sidebyside_archivist



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Sexual Dominance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-01
Updated: 2003-06-01
Packaged: 2020-06-27 05:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19784017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidebyside_archivist/pseuds/sidebyside_archivist
Summary: Kirk woos Spock. Originally published in the e-zine Side by Side, Special Issue #3 in 2003.





	The Art of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Note from LadyKardasi and Sahviere, the archivists: this story was originally archived at [Side by Side](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Side_by_Side_\(Star_Trek:_TOS_zine\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. We tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Side by Side’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sidebyside/profile).

_Benedick: “I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love.”_  
~Shakespeare, from _Much Ado About Nothing, Act II Sc III_

**Kirk:**

He thought he was going crazy. It happened so fast that, at first, he didn’t believe it. How could one man’s opinion mean so much to him? One man’s approval? Every time he applauded Kirk’s logic, or was nonplussed by Kirk’s illogical solutions that worked, Kirk felt a glow of pride. He valued his company more than he had ever valued anyone’s, and it became obvious to him that he was in love with the impossible; his first officer, his first Vulcan, Spock.

Kirk hid it for months. It seemed foolish to act on feelings that could never be reciprocated. So he admired him, courted his good opinion, valued his judgement and secretly coveted his fine body. Overcompensating, he tackled almost any available sexual person, seducing dozens and never really enjoying those one-night or two-night stands. He wanted more.

He wanted Spock.

Kirk made very, very discreet enquiries about the sex life of Vulcans, and ran up against the wall of privacy that seemed impossible to breach. He tried to tackle the subject with McCoy, thinking that the Doctor might have access to a Vulcan Healer who might answer his questions. Another wall. Frustrated beyond reason, Kirk found his wish shattered when Spock suddenly seemed to lose his mind, and they ended up at Spock’s wedding on the sands of Vulcan.

Spock had killed him. For a woman. In a blind rage.

But before he had killed him, as he had bested Kirk, straddled him and pinned him and strangled him, Kirk had felt the heat of Spock’s erection pressing against his belly.

When he was awake again, alive and awake, he had clearly seen the joy in Spock’s eyes. This time, when he contacted Vulcan with insider knowledge, a Healer at the Institute for Advanced Medical Research had answered his questions. Yes, Vulcans had feelings; they simply chose to rule them instead of being ruled by them. Yes, Vulcans did choose mates based on emotional criteria as well as logical. And yes, there were homosexual Vulcans. It was common.

Kirk began to plan his campaign.

**Spock:**

Something was going on, and Spock couldn’t figure out what it was. Although he greatly feared that he knew.

Jim had come back from his last shore leave, whistling and obviously relaxed, refusing to discuss with anyone what he had done. McCoy was close-mouthed and smiling. Scotty was smiling and singing Scottish dirges. And Jim; Jim was sporting what looked suspiciously like an engagement ring on the fourth finger of his left hand.

Spock was beside himself with curiosity and fear, and could admit to neither.

It would be out of character, the character he had built for himself, to question Kirk about the ring, the whistling, or the gaiety of the two men he had taken with him on leave. He needed that character, the wall of privacy, to survive among the Humans. Now that the wall was solidly respected, it was defeating him; he needed to know what that ring meant.

Because the driving forces that were the elemental soul of all Vulcan males had been awakened in him, and he felt as if he were almost mentally stuttering in his desire for Kirk, and his need to understand that ring.

When had it begun? The little sexual jokes that had found their way into Jim’s conversations in the last months? The lingering touches on his arms, his shoulders? The way Jim began to call attention to this or that attractive man, something Spock didn’t recall him ever doing before? It was after his disastrous Pon Farr. Almost as if the madness had not completely gone, as if it were slowly re-infecting his mind and body. It had come on gradually, Spock’s realization of his captain as the most sexually attractive being he had ever known. But it had really started in sickbay, a week before that shore leave, and that ring.

He and Jim in for physicals. McCoy called away on an emergency, leaving them staring across the room at each other, naked. The atavistic desire that Spock had been clamping down on for months had surged over him and he had become aroused. He replayed the scene in his head - the peculiar look in the Captain’s eyes. The quick drawn breath and slow blush. Spock turning away to hide the source of his embarrassment. And then Jim padding up behind him and forcing him to turn back. A single gentle stroke of one hand down his side, and Kirk’s peculiar smile again. “Neither the time nor the place, Mister Spock, but not unwelcome news,” he had said. “I suggest we get dressed and continue this at a more appropriate time.”

“Which ‘this’?” Spock remembered the ungrammatical remark clearly.

“Both. McCoy can reschedule. You and I need to talk. My quarters, twenty hundred hours.”

Spock had been in such a fever of apprehension the rest of the day that he could not, now, recall any one moment before approaching Jim’s door that evening. The events after the door opened seemed both the most and least real things that had ever happened to him before. Kirk had stared at him for a moment after the door closed, and Spock had returned the look. He didn’t think his face gave anything away, but after that moment passed, Kirk had smiled. “Finally. I wasn’t sure, Spock. I really wasn’t. But you finally got there, didn’t you?”

“Where, exactly, Captain?”

“Me. You got around to noticing me. Look how your breathing has picked up… your eyes are all dilated. You look positively dangerous.”

Spock had growled and grabbed Jim. Grabbed his captain! By the shoulders, pressing up against him, and Jim had not pulled away. “I cannot help but notice you. You flaunt yourself at me shamelessly.”

“Yes, I do don’t I? I knew you wouldn’t discuss it, but I thought if I pushed you far enough, you might begin to see things my way.” He had held Spock’s gaze, and then said gently, “the bed is in the other room.”

But training, or fear, had won out again, and Spock had shaken his head, though groaning inside, and released Jim’s shoulders. “No, sir. I… admit to desire. That much is true. However, sexual relationships between the two senior officers in the same chain of command would be dangerously unwise. You, even though a talented commander, are too guided by your Human feelings not to allow a relationship to interfere with your command decisions. There are specific regulations regarding it.”

“Those regulations have a completely different function, Spock. It’s to protect a junior officer from unwanted pressure by a senior, hardly the case here. As a Vulcan, you would only act on your feelings if you wanted to, not because I pressured you. Are you saying that you don’t think I could make the right decisions concerning you, in regard to work, if I were your lover?”

His body had responded traitorously to the word, but Spock had kept his outward composure, folding his hands behind his back and staring at a spot over Kirk’s shoulder. “Yes, sir.”

“But I suppose you could.”

“I am a Vulcan, sir, and immune to sentimental associations that might threaten the ship and crew.”

“Do you consider yourself immune to sexual harassment?”

“I do, sir.”

“A pretty compliment, Mister Spock.” Kirk had turned away then, and Spock waited for the reprimand, or the demand, that must follow. Instead, Kirk had muttered something about skinning cats and then said, out loud, “Very well. Dismissed.”

**Kirk:**

Of course Spock had turned away from him, right from the very edge of endurance it seemed. Only Spock would have the strength to do it. Kirk had stared after him, at the closed door, for many minutes, then shook himself and thumped down into his chair. Perhaps he needed to push Spock past the edge of endurance. He would certainly try. And meanwhile, he would see if he could enlist any allies in this battle.

Spock probably didn’t believe he would be won. Didn’t even believe he was worth fighting for, after that fiasco on Vulcan. Kirk would prove him wrong, and win for himself his heart’s greatest wish: to have himself tied irrevocably to the one man he cared about in every way possible.

**Spock:**

The flirting hadn’t stopped, only become more obvious and frequent. Spock had taken to avoiding Kirk off-duty. At first he had taken refuge in the labs, but Kirk would always find him out and sit with him, pulling a chair up so that they were thigh to thigh, resting a hand on his arm. His conversation became peppered with words like ‘inflame’ and ‘engorge’ and ‘masterful’ and ‘intense’, and even though used appropriately in context they were strangely… accented, so that the sexual meaning came through.

Spock began simply staying in his quarters in his off-duty hours, and refusing to allow Kirk entry. He fobbed him off with excuses about working on this and that in private. And Kirk would say something like, “Yes, it can be great fun and very, very rewarding, the work done in private,” and give him ‘that’ look and then leave him hard and aching and ever more concerned that Kirk would never give up.

Shore leave. Spock had sighed with relief when Kirk simply nodded at his refusal to beam down, and left the ship with McCoy and Scott. For three days, Spock had had the ship to himself, though thoughts of Jim and that ‘look’ kept invading his mind. Worse, he was starting to have erotic dreams about him, something that shamed him. On the third day several sealed messages came for Kirk, to be forwarded immediately. Spock had felt deep trepidation when he recognized that two of the messages came from Vulcan. What correspondence would Kirk possibly require from Vulcan that must come sealed for his eyes only? What would the one from the Admiral of the Fleet be? New orders? And the one from the University of Seattle? He was startled to see his hands shaking as he forwarded the messages to Kirk’s planet-side comm.

What was going on?

**Kirk:**

The allies had rallied faster, and better, than Kirk had hoped. It was a rule of engagement in any field; know thine enemy. He supposed Spock wasn’t, exactly, Kirk’s enemy, but he was certainly Kirk’s hopes for a relationship’s worst enemy, and probably Spock’s worst enemy as well. With McCoy and Scott in on the strategy, he had abandoned the field briefly to Spock, and finalized his plans from the safety of the planet. Spock may never accede victory, but he would certainly learn that he could, and should be, defeated in this. Defeated, so that he, Spock, could claim the field, victory and victor.

Kirk was very much looking forward to the final stages of the battle. His only fear was that Spock would retreat completely before the final move could be made. The strain on the Vulcan was becoming obvious to them all. It was like the early stages of Pon Farr again, and Spock was reacting in the same, unpredictable fashion. Kirk was afraid he would simply leave before the confrontation could be made.

**Spock:**

If the flirting had been Purgatory for Spock, the end of the flirting was the descent into Hell itself. They’d returned, the three of them, smiling and happy together, and Kirk had been wearing that ring. Spock had felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. Since then, for three days, Kirk had been absolutely correct with him, the flirting stopped completely, the consummate officer in a professional relationship again. Spock felt ill. If that ring had the symbolism he expected it did, he had lost his chance to one of his fellow officers. Probably McCoy, he surmised. McCoy and Kirk had been friends for a long time. In his disappointment over Spock, it would be normal for Kirk to turn to his best friend, and logical that such a moment might turn into more than friendship.

Spock had begun to see green with jealous fury that he had no right to feel, shouldn’t be able to feel, should at least be able to suppress. Where had his vaunted Vulcan control gone? What had become of him? Was he to end his days like this, a pseudo-human behind a Vulcan mask?

Several times over those three days he had composed and then deleted a request for transfer. Leaving the ship, and Jim, would be almost as bad as staying and seeing him happy with some one else. He swung between the two ideas, his control in scraps. On the fourth day he was so wound up he made a critical error in the lab when thoughts of the ring intruded on an experiment with explosive gases.

McCoy was hovering over him when he next had understood what was going on, shaking his head, and smiling. “You’ll be fine, Mister Spock. Mild concussion and a few minor burns. Lie still while I fix them.”

Shame overwhelming him, Spock had obeyed without protest. He noticed the gentleness with which McCoy touched him, and thought about those hands on Jim, and moaned.

“Does that hurt, Spock?”

“Negative, Doctor.” Jim had not wanted gentle. Jim had liked the grip of Spock’s hands on his shoulders, and invited him to bed. Spock suddenly wanted to strangle McCoy, and moaned again, unwittingly.

McCoy stood back and surveyed him, face becoming concerned. “I think this is worse than it looks. With your physiology, it’s sometimes hard to tell. I’m keeping you in for observation overnight, Spock. Do you feel any pain besides the burns, and a light headache?”

The ache in his heart and his groin were not reportable. “Negative.”

“Let me know if it gets worse.”

It got worse. In minutes Kirk was there, beside the bed, face deeply concerned. “Spock, what the hell happened? Since when do you make a mistake like that?”

“I was momentarily distracted,” he managed. “I apologize. Was anyone else injured?”

“No, thank god.” He’d stood silently for a minute, just staring, then turned to McCoy. The look changed to one of exasperated affection. “Let me know the minute you release him. There’s some explaining to do, here.”

“Sure, Jim. I’ll stop by later, for a drink. I think we need to have a chat.”

“Good. Spock, I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

With a wave of the be-ringed hand, he had gone. Over Spock’s protests, McCoy had given him a sleeping potion, and the last thing he remembered before drifting away was that he had been right. Jim and McCoy. He had been right. Strange, there was no ring on… on…

**Kirk:**

He had almost left it too late. Spock’s carelessness was like a shout for help; Spock was not careless, could not _be_ careless. Kirk cursed himself roundly for overestimating Spock’s stamina in his current state, and set about making arrangements for the final attack the next day. Spock would fall, or perhaps rise, hoist on his own petard.

He examined the ring with a fond smile, and carried on his preparations. There was a long briefing with Scott and McCoy, some last minute instructions to give and receive, and twelve hours of sleep to get. No sense going into battle tired. No sense at all.

**Spock:**

McCoy released him after breakfast the next morning, warning him to take it easy and following that with an order to report to the Captain’s quarters immediately. Unable to tell McCoy that the two were mutually exclusive, Spock had dressed and removed himself from Sick Bay. At least he had been forced to sleep, and felt as if his mental and emotional shields were more firmly in place today than they had been in weeks.

And that brought him to this moment. Standing outside Kirk’s quarters, he shifted uncomfortably while waiting for the door to open. When it did he strode inside, determined to appear utterly professional, and stood at parade rest beside Kirk’s desk.

Kirk wasn’t there. Spock turned to see him at his little dining table, still in his bathrobe, the remains of breakfast spread before him, and a coffee in hand. Beside his plate, a stack of padds and papers. “Morning, Spock. Feeling better?”

“I am feeling adequate to my duty, sir. May I enquire as to why you are not on duty this morning?”

“I have some… family matters to attend to, rather urgently, Spock. So I won’t keep you waiting. Pull up a chair.”

A wave of concern came over him. “Your mother is well?”

“Very well. No, that’s not the family problem to which I am referring, Spock. Sit _down_ , Spock. Actually, I’m planning a wedding.”

This wave was of pure nausea. Spock fought the urge to close his eyes, and maintained a calm face. “Congratulations, sir.”

“Thank you, Spock. I would like you to play a specific role at my nuptials, if you would do me the honour.”

“I am not familiar…” He couldn’t bear it. He would transfer off the very moment he could. Take that chair at the VSA; that would please his father at last.

“Oh, I think you’ll get the hang of it.” Obviously Kirk was not going to let him off the hook. He sighed internally, and waited. “The role I want you to fill is that of groom.”

Spock simply stared. “Groom.”

“Yes, Spock. I’m asking you to marry me.” Kirk pushed a small box across the table toward him, but Spock didn’t have the strength to reach for it. His mind, having given up on stuttering, merely stalled and failed to restart. “Now, before you begin telling me all the reasons that you can’t, let me tell you what I have been up to. First of all; regulations. I have written for, and received, a dispensation from Admiral Hirohito Nogura regarding fraternization in the line of command. He agrees that, as a Vulcan, you are immune to pressure from me, and that I am a good enough commander not to take our bedroom onto the bridge with us. Hiro also wishes us good luck and prosperity.” Kirk pushed the first padd across the table.

Spock jerked, eyes pinned to Kirk. “Second. I have informed the Federation Policy Council and received an authorization for recognition as a Vulcan Couple serving on the same star ship. They send their congratulations as well.”

A second padd followed the first. Spock still could not look down nor make a sound. He understood the expression ‘deer in the headlights’ now. Perfectly.

“Third. I have written to your parents for their permission to ask you to marry me, and also informed my mother of my intentions. They all agreed without reservation, and are sorry they are unable to attend.”

Sarek agreed to Spock having a homosexual union with a Human. It was unfathomable. Out of the corner of his eye he saw three sheets of paper joining the padds.

“Fourth, I have written to T’Pau about my intentions. She finds the union logical and agrees to record our union in the family history. She requests that we return to Vulcan as soon as we are able to have the bond itself verified.” Another padd.

Spock’s mouth was as dry as the desert, but at least his heart was beating again. He licked his lips. A peculiar feeling was stealing over him, a sort of pleasure. Jim had gone about getting what he wanted, but gone about it in a logical fashion that made it possible for Spock to accept. It was brilliant. The feeling of pleasure grew.

“Fifth, I have received proper information and instruction in the possible dangers and delights of a sexual union between a Human male and a Vulcan male, from the Institute of Hybrid Medicine itself. There is no reason we can’t enjoy an active, and interesting, sex life.” A rather thick stack of paper perched on top of the rest. Kirk’s side of the table was clear; Spock’s now crowded.

Kirk sat back at the table then, and sipped his coffee. “Sixth, but I think most important, is that I am very much in love with you, and I want your permission to be with you, and care for you, and grow old with you. I want it public and open, not hidden as if it were wrong. And I think you feel the same way about me.”

A shiver ran all over Spock’s body. “McCoy. I thought it was McCoy.”

“You thought Bones and I..?” Kirk burst out laughing. “Good lord, what a horrible idea. No, Spock. Bones is my best friend, that’s all. He helped me plan this. But I’m not in love with him. I’m in love with you.”

Kirk was in love with him. Kirk had gone to great trouble to bring this about. Spock lowered his eyes then and took a deep breath, holding on hard to the newly pleasurable feeling in case it made him explode. The evidence was all before him. “I have never known what love is, until I started to feel it for you. But Jim… are you absolutely sure? I can’t take any more. I am pushed to the limit. If it fails, or you reject me later, it would kill me.”

“Ah, my poor Spock. I’m sorry this was so hard for you.” Silence fell. Kirk, ever considerate, giving him time to assess this information and make a decision.

“I would require a monogamous relationship.”

“You had better!”

“It would be unlike any relationship you have had before. I am much stronger than you.”

“I do understand, Spock, that as a Vulcan in our relationship, you will need to… be in charge. That it is the role on Vulcan for the stronger male to dominate in a sexual relationship, and I certainly know you’re stronger. When we’re alone together, that’s fine with me. Outside our bed, this will be a marriage of equals. And outside, on duty, I am still your captain.”

His heart was beating painfully fast now, and his breath was growing shallow. If he could sweat, he would be sweating. Jim’s last little speech had re-ignited that primitive urge and he was swiftly getting an erection. “I am on duty in…”

“You are off duty for the next seven days, Spock. Scott has the ship, and it’s a milk run. I figure it will take at least that long to get you back to normal.”

“I do not know what ‘normal’ is for me, now.” He looked up again and saw that ‘look’ on Jim’s face. Saw the box on the table and reached down to open it. It was a ring, identical to the one on Jim’s hand. Spock slid it out of the box and onto his finger, and rose to his feet. “I accept you. Your logic is impeccable. I love you. You will be my mate.”

Jim smiled brilliantly and stood up to face him. “That’s all I wanted to hear. Do you remember where the bed is, this time?”

Spock answered with a growl, sweeping Jim into the curve of his arm and herding him toward the bed. Jim was laughing with delight.

“I hope you prepared for me. You must have known I would agree.”

“I did. And I did. And there’s plenty more lube in both drawers.” He hesitated beside the bed and reached for the place where Spock’s shirt met his pants. “Tell me what you want.”

“Disrobe, please, and lie down.”

Jim did, and Spock closed his eyes briefly to regain control. Jim’s whole body was flushed rosy, and his penis was fully engorged and rising toward his belly in a smooth arc. When Spock opened his eyes again Jim was breathing hard, watching him.

Spock took his time undressing, forcing himself to show control. It was imperative to him, for some reason, to impress Jim with his control this first time. He heard Jim’s gasp as he released his penis from its entrapment, and saw Jim’s involuntary move toward him. He lowered himself onto the bed and straddled Jim’s hips, their penises meeting for the first time. It was shocking. Jim arched up under him and moaned. “Will you meld us?”

“I will. In a while,” he replied, and suddenly the control was there. He began to stroke and lick and suck, to learn this hard/soft, hot/cool, perfect body, and Jim was moaning relentlessly and writhing under him, trying to buck up against him. Spock subdued him easily, in wonder that he was doing this to Jim. Causing his commander to lose all control like this, to beg him for more, to shout at a particular touch. It was a miracle of sensuality. He played Jim until tears stood in Jim’s eyes and he was groaning for release, and then lifted the strong legs and pressed himself into the tight, ready opening.

Jim shouted and rose up to meet him. Spock slid in, heart pounding, shaking with desire and the fulfilment of desire, and Jim met him stroke for stroke, one fist pounding on the bed, his head twisting and fluid leaking steadily out of the tip of his cock. Spock leaned forward and took the pounding fist, guided it to Jim’s penis. Jim hissed, and then grasped himself and began to stroke. Supporting himself on one arm, Spock reached for the meld points.

It was his undoing. Diving into Jim’s mind, exposing himself to Jim’s pleasure, exposing Jim to the ecstasy of his own body, he began to pound into Jim’s body and Jim let him, welcomed him, adored him. It was beyond any dream of sex he had ever known, beyond sex itself. It was absolute trust. It was total submission. He thrust, and thrust, and then fell into a burning he didn’t know existed as Jim came, and Spock came, and the rush of the moment overwhelmed him. He cried out, and Jim’s mind suddenly went blank. Spock fell over him, shuddering, and lost consciousness as the last waves of pleasure burst from him.

Jim was still unconscious when Spock regained awareness of his body. He carefully lifted his weight from his mate, and probed his mind. Overload, same as for Spock. Spock smiled and lay on his back, waiting for the trembling in his thighs to stop. It was unbelievable. It was better than he had thought possible. He tested the little link that had been formed; the basis for a bond. It would grow, oh, he would see that it had plenty of opportunity to grow into a full mating bond. For now it was enough to feel Jim coming slowly back from his explosive orgasm. More than enough, that Jim turned to him, and buried his face in Spock’s chest and began to sob. More than enough, for Spock to hold him while the emotional overload drained, and Jim sat up, laughing.

“That’s the first time _that_ ever happened! What _was_ that!? That was utterly amazing!” He wiped his eyes with his hand, and set the damp hand on Spock’s chest, eyes full of wonder.

“That was the first of many times we, as mates, shall pleasure one another.” Spock sat up and kissed Jim, and saw the dawning recognition of their future light up his eyes. “I am glad you had the courage to persevere in the face of my rejection, Jim. This is right.”

“This is absolutely right.” Jim got up slowly, and smiled down at him. “I’ll bring you a cloth.”

“No, I would prefer to shower. I will join you. Did McCoy’s deviousness extend to an enema kit and a dermal regenerator?”

Jim nodded, pacing into the bathroom. “Why? You didn’t harm me. Maybe a couple of bruises here and there, nothing worse.”

“There is some blood on your thigh. I will check you, and mend whatever tears I created, so that there is no discomfort.”

Jim shot him a look, blushing. “I’m not sure I want you to. I like the feeling of knowing I’ve been well and truly fucked, my Vulcan mate. You are _very_ well hung.”

“I do not like the idea of you being in pain. It limits both of our pleasure in this new union. Do not worry, you will have plenty of opportunity to experience the feeling again,” Spock said, for at Jim’s blunt words his penis had begun to stir again.

Jim saw, and his eyebrows rose. “I can see that.”

“Fetch the regenerator then, please, and meet me in the shower.” Jim nodded, smiling, and returned to the bedroom. Spock entered the bathroom and saw his reflection in the mirror; same face, but somehow different. He smiled, and his eyes caught a glimpse of gold. Spock gazed down at the ring on his hand, and then went to start the shower.


End file.
